


pomegranate pie

by ursa



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Choking, Filth, Gore, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, LORGE STEVE, Light Vore, M/M, Magic, Mild Comeplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsterfucking, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Smol Bucky, Threesome, Vampire Feeding, fucking with reality, half-shift werewolf, monster on monster, monsters don’t care about the femoral artery, vurdalak bucky, wolf steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursa/pseuds/ursa
Summary: if only blood could be half as sweet.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	pomegranate pie

**Author's Note:**

> well this was supposed to be for halloween ext. (aka november) alas i have dropped the ball. but i picked it up again! thank you to @corarochester for helping me straighten this sheet of filth hehe. 
> 
> oh. you might think it’s underage. it’s not. he’s just really babie.

_When Steven Grant Rogers met with Anthony Edward Stark a month ago, the dossier that listed out the details of the expedition barely piqued his interest. To be fair, Tony called him under the pretense of a social call, not a recruitment pitch. Only two reasons kept him seated in the dainty little garden chair in the middle of a Manhattan high-rise-- the inexplicable fondness for the kid, and the unwavering loyalty he has to the man’s father._

_The war was a long time ago but the blood of kin stayed strong, pack ties thick and clear between him and Tony. He can almost scent the undertones of ozone and myrrh in the kid’s dried sweat as he gesticulated wildly over the documents scattered on the round glass table._

_He was half-listening the entire time, almost indulgent as he watched Tony alternate between drinking the green sludge in his glass and repeatedly pointing and tapping his bandaged finger on one of the blown up photos of an abandoned Balkan silo._

_But it was a speck on one of the images that arrested Steve, nearly imperceptible but undeniably distinct._

_Fucking Hydra._

_The growl he let out was sudden and so loud it shut Tony up. The man looked at him, tense, and Steve could smell the trepidation coming off of him._

_They locked eyes and Tony exhaled shakily and nodded._

_It took four weeks of prep and now Steve stands stiff in the belly of an abandoned silo glaring at a chained up door, while Sam, Sharon, and Natasha wait just outside, sentinels at the silo’s perimeter._

_The stench bleeding through the basement entrance is all old blood and the faded saccharine odor of dead bodies. But underneath all that?_

_An old beloved scent. Something like rage sits heavy in Steve. It’s been decades upon decades, but he knows it, intimately._

_He grabs at the overlapping metal and pulls._

_He descends._

  
  


-

The bed is a mess.

What started out as dusty white sheets are now a clumped up pile of sticky linen, crusty at the edges, the scraping sounds rhythmic as it follows every punched out gasp from the man above him. His hands are tight on slick hips, knuckles white as he tries and fails to keep the man from squirming off of him as his own hips drive upwards to keep the melody afloat.

He’s in heaven, he’s in hell, he’s trapped in a purgatory drenched in blood, cum, and sweat. He’s getting close, his gut cramping in pain at his impending release.

“I’m-- I’m close-”

The man bares his pink-tinged teeth at him and hisses out, “Don’t you dare stop-”

And he can only close his eyes and grit his teeth as he drives his hips upwards one more time, his keening overlapped with a moan beside him as another set of teeth gluttonously sinks into the meat of his jugular.

When he said he could do this all day, he wasn’t expecting _this_.

-

He’s got one of them bent over in front of him now, the other braced behind him, clammy arms and cold hands grasping at his chest, the sting of teeth skittering all over his shoulders. Each tiny nip draws blood and it’s a heady sensation combined with the tight heat around his cock.

Steve throws his head back as he gasps, giving way to the hungry mouth latching on soft tissue under the hinge of his jaw. He can feel the other man’s cock sliding slippery wet against his own ass as he continues to grind back and forth, his own dick buried deep in the man’s ass beneath him.

It’s in the cacophony of grunts and moans that the thought of not lasting crosses Steve’s mind and he screws his eyes shut. His hyperextended arms are sore, grip on meaty hips shaking as he tries to keep up. They’re doing something to him, he knows it, something to prolong the hardness of his dick - his preternatural stamina notwithstanding - all to prolong the feeding.

It’s absolute torture.

Suddenly, he gets forcibly pulled away, the squelching sound of his cock popping out, filthy-- 

He thinks one of them yelps _my turn,_ but the ensuing scramble that pushes him onto his back drowns out the rest, an overlap of hissing and the sound of skin hitting skin. He doesn’t even bother to look at them and in the next moment he feels it, a suction back on his cock and he groans, his head turning to the side and his arms shooting out wildly.

“I said my fucking turn,” gets hissed out atop him, and a “Fucking fine!” bit out beside him.

He gets restrained by legs and hands and icy fingers, his body coerced to starfish on the ruined sheets. He can’t stop his body from tensing and relaxing in turns as the man on top of him rabbits down on his groin while another hand pulls at his face, a wet prick standing rudely at him. A sudden bite on his left pectoral makes him choke on air, and he can almost imagine what they look like, two underfed vampires going to town on his hard body. 

That hard prick won’t stop swaying and he can see it, wet at the tip. He grunts as he tries to move, but the shin trapping his right arm is unrelenting, the hand pushing his head to the side spasming with every swallow of blood.

He thinks they’re close to draining him but then the teeth become lips and tongue, lapping at the thin skin on his chest. Even the slap of thighs on his thighs have slowed down, the motions easing to a lazy grind. 

“Gotta keep you awake, baby.” Steve feels it more than hears it, the words mouthed on his chest and then he pulls off with his dick staying proudly erect at Steve’s face. It gives him a moment of straight eye contact with the one beside him. Even with flaking blood on his chest and fresh blood staining his face, he looks absolutely devastating.

It makes Steve inhale sharply, a rumble of a growl building in his chest, his right arm flexing under the man’s splayed thigh, not enough to push him off but enough to make his eyes widen and grin sharpen. “Oh, you’re actually enjoying this.”

The one on top of him puffs out a breath, curling forwards, long hair curtaining his face, and two arms bracketing him, obstructing Steve’s view of the other one. “Of course, he’d enjoy this. Almost like old times, hm, Steve?”

It makes Steve’s eyes bleed red completely, as he feels the shift spreading from the base of his spine, making him blush and the tips of his ears pointy.

“Not alike at all, Buck.”

But the Bucky on top him just continues to grin with all his teeth, eyes dilating completely, allowing the monster to come out. It doesn’t lessen the feeling in his groin, minute grinds and lovely suction, and yeah, maybe it is a little like way back when.

-

Steve may have dozed off. Or dissociated. Or went into heaven for a longer period of time or something, because he sure can’t remember how he ended up half-submerged in a marble pool filled with bloody water. Of course. 

His body is aching and the most sensitive parts of his body stinging. It’s dark with only a single candle burning futilely on the far side of the pool, but it’s just enough for him to see the shadows moving. Then-- eyes.

It’s unnerving, that’s for sure. But they’re steady, unmoving in the dark as Steve stares back. Just as suddenly it moves, and the closer it does the more Steve sees of him- skin flushed pink from feeding, body as svelte as ever as he moves nearer. He can’t stop looking at him, the terrifying miracle of Bucky Barnes alive, in the flesh.

“Feeling woozy, sweetheart? Lost you there for a second.”

He folds himself to sit beside Steve just outside the marble pool. He keeps gazing back at Steve, eyes skittering all over his face, as if checking for something. That’s new, Steve thinks.

“Where’s your terrible twin?”

It makes Bucky’s face scrunch, makes him snort. It warms Steve up like nothing else seeing that. It’s been so long.

“He’s walking around the pit. Pacing himself probably,” Bucky whispers, sniggering. He sounds high as a kite and there’s a near imperceptible tremor in his shoulders. He’s very well fed. He looks back at Steve, predatory eyes belying the new solemnity in his voice. “He’s still hungry, Steve. He’s young. Not like me.”

It makes Steve look away from him to stare at the near finished candle. So, the other one’s still hungry. He himself hasn’t eaten anything supplemental since mission start, discounting the bottle of water and the protein bar Sam threw at him from the basement entry and promptly wolfed down. If the feeding goes on, he’s not sure if he’ll have enough blood to circulate to move.

He can heal. Probably.

“I can see you thinking Steven. Just because you say you _can do it all day_ \- ”

It makes them both break into sniggers, ramping up to full out laughter and it makes Steve tear up a little, knowing that Bucky is alive and cognizant, lovely and dangerous. It makes a part of him break a little in a good way, his chuckles turning wet at the edges, makes him cup his face into his hands, unmindful of the fact that he’s been sitting in fucking bloody water for god knows how long.

“Oh Steve-”

He hears Bucky move, feels warm fingers tracing the back of his neck, and it makes him hunch further down and tense, stamping down the rising emotion of sheer and absolute relief. He’s not here to traipse down memory lane, however bloody and rose-colored it was.

Bucky’s dancing fingers slowly change to a firm grip, thumb heavy behind his ear, and the rest digging deep on the back of his neck. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Steve raises his head, right arm reaching out, raising, to wrap loosely around Bucky. It dislodges Bucky’s grip somewhat and Steve stares directly into Bucky’s pensive face. “I’m gonna hafta shift, Buck.”

It takes a moment but Bucky gets it, eyes widening. “I don’t think he’s ready for that-”

“I need to be standing by the end of this, Bucky. This form can only provide so much blood. If I shift- I can do it. We gotta, I need to get you and him- us- out of here, with the least amount of risk possible.”

Bucky hesitates, worrying his bruised bottom lip with pink fangs. He looks so lovely, Steve kind of wants to get on with it now, to hell with the consequences. “He’s not from here, Steve. It’ll terrify him.”

Steve snorts. Bucky pouts at him.

“Honey, between the both of you, he drew first blood. A little fur ain’t gonna freak him.”

-

The pit is wide and shallow, just enough of a depression on the ground to collect water from the leaking walls. Steve doesn’t know how the plumbing in this room works but it doesn’t matter- the running water seems to be the only thing keeping the room’s atmosphere from becoming stifling, with the metallic scent of stale blood washed away by the unceasing drips. 

He follows Bucky shakily, still feeling anemic from the last feeding. He needs to shift soon- his body feels too sluggish, abnormal and uncomfortable. Bucky’s borrowed warmth helps and soon they find _him_ , facing the cracked wall, half prone and legs folded haphazardly. 

A slip of a thing. His scent is unmistakable and the skin on his back an unnatural, ashen olive and he’s emaciated by his kind’s standards, far from the living tan the Bucky propping Steve up has. His hair is in matted curls, shoulders slumped and head in the air like Steve would do when he scents an area. Steve’s never seen Bucky so young. 

Bucky makes a cut-off grunt beside him and the little one tenses, muscles suddenly taut and alert from the seeming laxness of his once prone body. It’s eerie, the way he slowly swivels his neck towards them, steel-enveloped eyes focusing over his own shoulder. His pink mouth is parted, old blood staining the corners of his lips. 

When Steve had him on top, he was a rambunctious and hungry thing, all cold fingers unrelenting in the pursuit of blood and climax, eyes and limbs unceasing in movements. Now he’s all predator, his still gaze penetrating. 

Steve clears his throat. In all honesty, he has no idea if this Bucky can even understand what he is. He feels the Bucky beside him shift, arm loosening from around his waist, stance stiffening towards the young thing in front of them. There wasn’t much time to talk boundaries from when he pushed Sam back up the basement and entered the fray to the moment he found himself supine, neck bloodied and dick being ridden to oblivion. 

So. Steve doesn’t know shit. Except the fact that he’s really feeling the slow pulse in his veins. Not that he’s complaining. 

“He’s not gonna hurt us.”

Bucky’s voice is deliberately low as he speaks, inching away from Steve as he slowly slips down, hand stretching to reach out to the tense _boy_ on the floor. His gaze continues to pin Steve where he’s standing, over Bucky’s shoulder, waiting on who’s going to make the first move. 

“He’s gonna change, but not like us, kid-“

“Show me.”

He’s fully turned towards the both of them now, unabashedly naked and half kneeling, and Steve can’t help but _look_. Skin just as ashen as his back but dusted with hair all over, with marks from their earlier activities not quite faded just yet. He’s lean, like Bucky was in his early days in Steve’s commando unit, but the edges of his body look supple, young. Immortality has arrested him in this state and it scares and angers Steve seeing how young he looks. 

The boy’s intense gaze is edged with not quite just hunger this time, curiosity abating bloodlust momentarily. The Bucky Steve knows clicks his tongue as he shakes his head to face Steve with a curt nod. 

Steve huffs out a breath before pushing the shift, spine cracking as he lets the change occur. Like always, he feels it everywhere all at once, bones splintering minutely underneath his warping skin, nails, hair, and cuticles hardening across his limbs, in his hands, and in his feet. All the while he holds the gaze of the Bucky he has yet to know, watching the widening of preternatural steel eyes as he feels his own burn red in his skull. 

Tunnel vision is one of the early symptoms of the shift at this stage, alongside a sharper sense of smell, and the irrepressible urge to hunker down and feel the earth with his ragged palms. 

Steve can feel his back bowing forwards, arms lengthening and shoulders widening. It’s been a long time since he shifted voluntarily in front of anyone, the scrutiny and the reasons that led up to this moment making his belly churn. 

When the last of his bones have snapped into place, Steve’s half gone from the sensation of the shift. His heartbeat is strong in this form, vessels dilated to pump more blood throughout his now larger body, the remaking turning him into this formidable thing, heavy and wild. 

His breaths are heavy and the room’s stench of old blood and dried viscera is pulling the basest of his instincts outward. His eyes have shut. When he blinks them open they snap back to the gaze he first held. Steve feels a hand slide in his rumbling chest. Bucky’s touch remembers. 

“He’s not gonna hurt us.”

Steve can hear the soothing tone Bucky is using on his stranger self. 

A moment and the boy is choking out, “He’s fucking huge-“

Steve watches the small thing in front of him waver, from half kneeling to crouching, back flush to the wall, shoulders up and distinctly _afraid_. Even apex predators can feel fear after all. 

The fear irritates Steve’s sensitive nose and he leans harder on the rumbling in his chest, inching forward the cowering boy in front of him. He thinks himself soothing. It makes Bucky laugh against his side and Steve chuffs at him to shut him up. 

“He’s trying to calm you down, relax-“

“He’s gonna eat me, oh my god he’s gonna eat me-“

Steve chortles at him and he speaks, voice deeper and more grating now than when he walks on two legs. “I ain’t gonna eatcha, honey.”

The Bucky curled in front of him looks petrified at hearing a monster’s voice come out of a monster’s body. His vurdalak eyes have contracted, the supernatural sheen of his skin faded, leaving this Bucky achingly human and small beneath Steve’s hulking body. It’s a contrast, especially as Steve feels the wiry and undeniably bigger form of the Bucky sidled up to his side. 

Steve keeps moving down, forcing the Bucky he knows to kneel and sit beside the terrified version of himself. It makes Bucky frown but allows it, slipping beside the boy, sitting shoulder to shoulder, and staring impassively at Steve. 

But the wolf is focused on the young thing now, red eyes unblinking and chest continuing to tremble. “You still need to feed, dontchu?”

The fear stink is still strong, the boy hides his eyes under his curls, shoulders hunched to his ears, and arms curled around bent knees. The Bucky he knows clicks his tongue again, this time out of impatience and he suddenly lays a palm on the boy’s arm. It makes the stranger Bucky screech and Steve is pushing them apart, a loud growl resounding loudly to warn them off each other.

It puts the small thing plastered against Steve’s damp furry chest and the stink of fear abruptly shifts to something more prurient. Bucky behind him snorts inelegantly. 

Steve feels heat zip through him, more reflex than anything. Steve knows better, he thinks. When he peers down, he sees a pale baby face pursing his lips at him. And Steve knows, if there’s a little bit more blood in him, he’d get to see a blush on those cheeks, too. 

“I’m not fucking you.”

He says it with such a shaky voice it makes Bucky behind Steve stifle a cackle. 

“I know honey, but you gotta get some blood in you, ok?”

It’s in the strained softness in Steve’s voice that the Bucky in his arms relents, head tilting up and steel blooming in his eyes. 

-

As the Bucky he knows lopes off to gather the things they need to get out, Steve has the stranger Bucky cradled against him, a seemingly small body dwarfed by the bulk of his wolf form. Kid has yet to have his fill, mouth latched hard on Steve’s thick carotid, all the while humming low as he feeds. It’s almost soothing if Steve doesn’t think about cold fingers skating all over his front and side, a half-chub rubbing incessantly against his furred navel. 

He tries to keep his rough palms from brushing too much against the slowly warming skin, grip on his shift like iron. As the heat rises between their bodies, Steve looks and feels more and more the every inch of his ungodly form, hands halfway to gigantic paws, teeth and tongue thick in his mouth, and feeling undeniably _big_ in all the wrong places. 

Bucky is a squirmy little thing, too young in his turning and unused in the instincts driving his bloodlust. It’s when he moves away from Steve’s neck and traces his lips lower, down to Steve’s clavicle that the wolf groans in warning. 

“Are you done?”

Steve tucks his chin as best as he can to look down but the matted brown curls hide the boy’s expression. He feels it though, lips smushed against his collarbone, sharp teeth resting lightly where the skin is thin. Warm hands that were lazily groping him earlier are now clutched tight in Steve’s back, sharp nails against wiry hair, and a drooling prick unashamedly wetting Steve’s tummy. It makes Steve’s own cock twitch, guilt be damned. 

Without warning, he slides down Steve’s front and the wolf couldn’t help it, clawed fingers grabbing at lean shoulders. “Kid….”

It makes Bucky look up, dimpled chin propped on Steve’s sternum and eyes gleaming silver. “I’m not fucking you,” he whispers before biting at his lips and grip turning painfully tight at Steve’s hips. He looks alive now, skin warm with wolf blood and the apples of his cheeks dusted pink. His stare wavers from Steve’s own and Bucky looks down, muttering, “but I kinda want to taste you.”

Steve’s sharp inhale is cut short by a pitiful whine as his head falls back, his claws digging tight on the kid’s shoulders. There’s not a lick of fear in the stench of the humid room, only pure and unadulterated want, nasty and sharp. Steve couldn’t bear to look down. 

He couldn’t when he could feel the soft nuzzling at the base of his cock, wet pants heavy against the sensitive skin of his groin, and the rasp of his own wiry fuzz scratching the boy’s supple skin. Steve’s holding strong on his shift but it’s hard, the skin on his chest rippling, pulling taut and making his nipples stand stiff. 

Steve feels ragged and obscene, senses going haywire as a wet tongue slides slick down his stiff prick. There’s a tremor in his thighs he couldn’t control and he’s withdrawing his hands quickly, palms slamming on the ground instead as his sharp claws draw grooves on the concrete floor. His voice shakes when he growls at Bucky to stop, canines an unruly mouthful, and drool thickening at the corners of his lips. 

The soft touches don’t relent though and it gives Steve whiplash as he feels nails gouging the thick meat on his hips, like tiny anchors for this insatiable bloodsucking _bat_ currently going to town on his dick. It’s all tongue in his slit, lips on the edges of his frenulum, and glancing teeth, pulling at the taut skin underneath his dickhead, and warm saliva smelling faintly metallic sliding down to the rest of his groin, to his balls, his perineum feeling slick. 

Bucky is insatiate at his latest pursuit and it pulls Steve in, ass sliding even further down the wet floor, back curved uncomfortably as he finds the courage to watch this pretty young thing lave at every patch of pebbled skin on and around his groin. The boy looks ravenous, savoring Steve’s bloody musk as he rubs his face all over, mouth always open, a teasing tongue bravely slipping way further down, a nasty tip swiping at his rim. Steve could feel a mouth ghosting back up, teeth resting on the rolled skin where his thigh meets his ass. 

A howl gets ripped off of his throat when Bucky suddenly bites down hard, right at the joint of his thigh and Steve’s control snaps, instantly clamping down a large hand on the boy’s head, the pain discourteous and sharp. 

With a newfound clearheadedness, Steve’s wanting to rip Bucky off his groin wars with foresight- he doesn’t want to bleed out unnecessarily here. He looks down and tuts, “How rude, honey.”

It makes Bucky whine and gurgle blood in his throat, body lax in acquiescence as he lets Steve’s hard grip on his skull tighten. His limbs have gone rubbery, hands hanging limp around Steve’s hips. 

“Well, I guess you’re right.”

Steve snaps his head up and it’s the Bucky he knows, standing half-dressed in an old pair of pants and suspenders, and staring amusedly at the both of them. He’s got a large steamer trunk propped up where he’s bent forward, watching the quickly turning awkward situation, what with a horny little bastard latched fang-heavy near Steve’s balls beside the unmistakably proud erection the wolf has going on. 

“About what,” Steve grits out. 

Bucky, smug and terrible as Steve knew him, cracks and hoots, “About the _little_ fur!”

The honking laughter makes the little one growl against Steve’s thigh and it only makes Bucky hoot louder. There’s an annoying tug in Steve’s face and he’s helpless to it, pissed off smile breaking free. “Shut up, Barnes!”

Bucky wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, as he approaches them, unmindful of the suddenly territorial vampire latched on its current prey in the most embarrassing way possible. “Unclench you little bastard, you’re gonna drain Steve dry.”

The moment Bucky’s hands touch the nape of his terrible, terrible twin (fuck you very much, Steve, really), the boy’s hands shoot out to stay Steve’s cradling hand and his growls get louder, and Steve can feel a trickling around the unnaturally numb area where the stranger Bucky’s mouth is stuck on. 

Bucky doesn’t care though, resolute on removing the leech on Steve’s thigh. When he manages to get Steve’s hand off of the boy’s skull, Bucky moves his grip to the boy’s throat, easing the bite to loosen. 

It looks like Bucky’s choking him. Steve doesn’t know what to do except keep his legs wide open and arms out of the way. 

“Get off you brat, you’re as full as you’re gonna get-“

“Buck-“

Bucky lets out a frustrated grunt and he leans forward, as if embracing the kid, right hand still unforgiving on the other’s throat. With his body enveloped around the boy, he squeezes him and murmurs, “Let go.”

No dice. 

If anything, the kid bites down harder, and for Steve the pain has long surpassed the pleasure, making him wince a little, prick flagging sadly by the boy’s face.

Steve’s profoundly uncomfortable now, gaze averted from what’s happening around his nether regions. He knew they weren’t going to fuck but he sure as hell isn’t gonna manhandle the little Bucky. He’s like a ragdoll for chrissakes. 

A sharp keen draws his gaze back down and he almost tries to intervene. Bucky’s got both hands tight around the kid’s throat now, absolutely choking him. “Buck- Bucky what the fu-“

“I said let go!”

Bucky’s voice is grating, unnatural from his own throat and Steve can feel the boy’s jaws easing, fangs withdrawn. All the while, he’s choking with his mouth open, unswallowed blood pouring in rivulets out of his gaping lips. 

It gets Steve moving, left hand clamping down hard on his own thigh as he bleeds freely, right hand grabbing at Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky stop, you’re gonna choke him out-“

“-that’s the point,” Bucky huffs out. 

The kid sounds like he’s drowning but his little body is fighting, nails focused on getting at Bucky behind him. Bucky won’t relent his grip though. “Stop squirming. I’ll let go, stop squirming and don’t you dare jump Steve,” Bucky grates out, arms like iron around the kid’s body. He shakes the agitated thing in his arms, hissing at him and the kid hisses threadily back at him before he releases his grip. 

Steve’s still splayed on the ground, dick soft, and chest rounded as he finds reprieve in the, hopefully, final feeding. The kid is bent forward, hands flat on the concrete floor, shallowly trying to get his breath back. 

Something’s wrong and Steve gets a whiff of it too late. When he moves the kid shies away from him and Bucky’s suddenly there, scooping him back up. “Steve, I think he’s full now.” Bucky looks back at Steve. 

Steve tries to lean closer again but it’s Bucky’s hand that stops him, “That trunk’s got some clothes in it and a couple of rations, still edible I think…”

It gives Steve pause, the sudden seriousness in Bucky’s demeanour a complete turnaround. “He needs a jacket and some pants at least, Steve.”

A moment passes. Steve looks at Bucky and seeing nothing, he complies wordlessly.

-

Steve eases off the shift just as quickly as he donned it. It’s easy, after the bleeding in his thigh has abated enough for him to walk without limping. Bucky, when he feeds, has a potent bite but the little one, well, as they say- the smaller the bolder. 

He handed the clothes to Bucky earlier after dressing up himself and now he’s pacing the perimeter of the room, a little curious and a little sick. Thinking about how Bucky was stuck here alone until Hydra idiotically played with reality, and even after, still alone.

Maybe it was a hundred years, maybe it wasn’t. All the same, it makes Steve no less angry than the moment he found out what was in this gods forsaken silo. 

He hears it then, a small sniff, and he turns. He sees them both, one of his height and the one he knows down to his bones, and another, an echo but familiar only in all the ways that count. 

Boldly, the latter speaks. 

“We’re ready.”

-

_In the middle of a forgotten plateau in the Balkans, a silo door opens._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
